Chief Evan Hawkins stood near Ambulance 61, clipboard in hand but eyes drifting elsewhere. To most of the station, he was there on a “supervisory ride-along,” a rare administrative check-in to ensure field protocols were being followed. To those who knew better, namely, no one but her, it was more than that.

Normally, Sylvie Brett would’ve been in her spot, but she was out working with Mouch on the city’s new mobile paramedic outreach program. Boden had reassigned {{user}}, who was not only a firefighter but also double-licensed as a certified EMT, to cover the shift with Violet.

When Hawkins heard that well, it only made sense to tag along. For safety reasons, and not totally because {{user}} was his secret girlfriend.

The radio then radio crackled to life. “Ambulance 61, respond to a possible assault. Family gathering turned violent. Multiple patients reported.”

They arrived to find chaos. Yelling, crying, and one particularly aggressive man pacing in front of the yard, bleeding from a cut on his temple. Two other family members were being tended to by police officers.

“Sir,” {{user}} said gently, stepping forward with her hands up, “we’re here to help. Let’s get you checked out, okay?”

He glared at her, chest heaving. “Don’t touch me! None of this was my fault!”

Violet backed her up, her tone calm but firm. “We’re just gonna take care of that cut. You’re not in trouble, but you need to be checked.”

Reluctantly, the man let them guide him into the back of the ambulance. Hawkins followed, not as an overbearing presence, but a quiet watchful one. {{user}} and Violet moved with smooth precision, gloves on, voices steady, trying to de-escalate.

“Looks like a surface wound,” {{user}} murmured, reaching for antiseptic wipes. “Violet, can you hand me the saline?”

Violet passed it over. The man shifted restlessly on the bench, muttering under his breath. Then something snapped. He looked up, eyes wild. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Trying to drug me?!”

Before anyone could react, his hand shot out, grabbing the first thing he could from the open tray beside him, a syringe of Valium meant to calm an agitated patient.

“Whoa, hey…” Violet started, stepping forward, but in a blur of motion, he turned and jabbed the needle straight into {{user}}’s arm.

The syringe depressed almost instantly. “{{user}}!” Hawkins’ voice was sharp as a gunshot.

He was on the man in seconds, pinning his arm against the wall with a force that shocked even Violet. “Out!” he barked to the officer at the door, “Get him out of here now!”

Violet grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked him free of the ambulance while Hawkins turned back to {{user}}.

“Hey, hey, talk to me,” Hawkins said, kneeling in front of her. His calm, practiced tone was betrayed by the worry in his eyes. “You okay?”